


Black and White

by betawho



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 10:51:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1507841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betawho/pseuds/betawho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is nothing black and white about the Doctor and River's relationship, except one thing...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black and White

River walked into the Tardis carrying a cluster of three white balloons. She tied them to the stair railing and walked out again.

She walked back in carrying a white vase filled with white flowers. She set them on the stairs.

“River, what are you doing?” the Doctor asked, watching this display in confusion.

She walked past him and silenced him with a kiss. For such a short, soft kiss it tingled him down to his toes.

He watched mystified as she walked off up the interior stairs farther into the Tardis.

She came back down lugging a large, ornate, straightbacked chair. She carried it past him down to the Tardis floor and arranged it in front of the wall scanner. She looked down, nodded, and walked out again.

She walked back in carrying a silvery cloth projector screen, and started setting it up behind the chair.

“River, what are you doing?” he asked again, completely befuddled.

She looked up at him and smiled. “Go put your tuxedo on, Sweetie,” she ordered softly, smiling up at him. She continued fussing with the screen, ignoring him.

After a moment’s juttering hesitation, he left to go put on his tuxedo.

He came back into the console room, adjusting his bow tie, and smoothing his white scarf to lay elegantly around his neck, and caught his breath.

River was wearing a gorgeous white wedding dress. She was bending over a holocamera on a tripod, her curls a silky cloud around her head, the dress was strapless, had a long train, and was made of the most exquisite embroidered white lace.

She looked up and smiled at him, her golden honey shoulders rising out of the dress, her lovely decolletage framed in white.

His adams apple swelled in his neck. He could feel the heat of his face flushing. His hearts beat with the sweetest pain.

“Sit down, Sweetie,” she waved at the chair. She’d arranged the ornate ebony chair in front of the screen, tied the balloons to the back corner and placed the flowers to the side in front to form a frothy counterpoint.

He went over and sat down, feeling a bit like a prisoner waiting for a mug shot.

River fiddled with the camera, programming it, then bounded over and threw the whole warm, frothy, bundle of herself in his lap. She draped her silky legs over one arm of the chair, swept her train out in a wave, smoothed down her dress, and snatched his hat of his head.

She gave him a quick smooch.

“Smile!” she said, draping her arm around his neck, she leaned back and brandished his hat, smiling at the camera.

He gave her a leery look out of the corner of his eye, but smiled, he couldn’t help it.

The camera flashed, with that particular sonic buzz of a holoemitter, and she jumped up and ran around the back to check the photo.

She laughed gaily, “Oh, that’s _perfect_!” she said with that warm vibrato tone that always made his bones shiver.

She picked up the camera off its tripod, trotted back and plopped herself back in his lap.

She showed him the hologram projecting from the back. Starkly black and white, his tuxedo, her dress, the flowers and balloons, offset by the silver screen behind them.

Her golden hair and skin, his brilliant green eyes, and the vivid red lipstick stain on his mouth, were the only color.

He was looking at her out of the corner of his eyes with a slightly terrified, slightly leery, and totally besotted expression.

He looked up to see her smiling fondly at the photo.

“What was all this in aid of?” he asked. Not that he _minded_ a lapful of lacy, lovely River.

She smiled up at him from under his hat which she’d plopped on her curls.

“It just suddenly occurred to me,” she said, getting comfortable, “that we didn’t have any wedding photos.”

—

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